He was not accustomed to her all too frequent brushes with death, nor was he ready to part with her just yet. No doubt she should change into her dry gown, but he had to hold her now, had to feel her body alive with breath and the chill of the river upon her skin.
“I was so frightened,” she murmured in a quavering voice.
He touched the crown of her head with his lips and closed his eyes, feeling her heart beat against him.
She sighed and he pressed his mouth against her forehead, then her temple. “Lucy,” he breathed, just before tasting her lips.
They were cool and soft, and he barely restrained himself from devouring them.
Alex heard her whimper, then felt her arms tighten around him. Needing no further urging, he pressed his lips against hers, tipping his head to increase the contact.
His blood boiled with need. He opened his mouth slightly and deepened the kiss, sipping, tasting her sweetness.
Needing no prompting, Lucy pressed against his length, slid her hands up his chest, then farther, cupping the sides of his face. She opened to his kiss, and he sucked her tongue into his mouth.
No longer did she feel cold to him. He breathed in her heat while he seduced her mouth, first suckling, then thrusting, imitating what he would do when they were both naked, both writhing with pleasure in the warm cocoon of the kitchen.
He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the blanket that lay on the floor before the fire. His own passion was reflected in her eyes when she reached for him, pulling him over her, positioning her body to accommodate his.
“You are so beautiful.” He dipped his head and caught her lips again, and drowned in the sensations caused by her touch.
She slid her fingers through his hair, then down to his jaw, his neck, his chest. Her hands encircled the muscles of his arms and he felt her breasts rise against his chest in a sigh. Alex unfastened her wet laces and opened her bodice.
Her breasts spilled free, and he trailed kisses down her throat and licked the little brown mole that had tantalized him so. Then he moved down to one cool, rosy nipple. When he sucked it into his mouth, her breath caught in her throat. She cupped his head in her hands.
Alex could not imagine a more responsive woman. She nearly came out of her skin when he touched her, and her reactions only inflamed him more.
“Lucy.” She was a fever in his blood, a tempest in his mind. He closed his eyes and shuddered with his burning arousal. Pure instinct drove him now. He was male, she was female, and he wanted her with greater urgency than he wanted his next breath.
Until a chilling howl penetrated his hazy consciousness. A wolf—a pack of wolves howled—somewhere outside their door.
Alex came to his senses abruptly. He could not remember if he’d secured the door when he’d carried Lucy inside. Though he was still intensely aroused, he pushed himself up on his hands and reached for his sword. Lucy sat up and tried to pull the blanket around her.
“Is it wolves?”
He barred the door and nodded. “They probably found their brother in the river,” he said. “I’m going to go check the barn to be sure Rusa is safe.”
Lucy grabbed his arm. “But—”
“’Tis unlikely they’ll come close to the abbey,” he said. “Stay inside.”
A faint light shone through the cracks in the barn door. Lucy could see it through the window of the refectory, so she knew Alex was still safe inside. With his horse.
She’d waited more than an hour for him to return, pacing the length of the kitchen, then doing the same in the refectory. Waiting expectantly, yearning for him, for his kiss, his touch.
But she’d finally faced the fact that he had no intention of returning. If anything, he wanted to avoid her.
Naught had changed since he’d first stumbled upon her over a week before. He’d accompanied her reluctantly, and even been stuck here at Holywake with her—due more to chivalry than affection, she was sure. No knight in Christendom would have left a lame woman to complete these tasks alone.
She wiped away her tears and slipped out of her wet clothes. After putting on her dry gown she spread her wet things out to dry. A while later, she curled up in her blanket by the fire and felt more alone than ever before.
Alex was a free man. He had not yet made his monastic vows, so he was free to choose. But he had not chosen her. He’d had a family already…a wife, a child. Lucy could not imagine the pain of his loss, but ’twas clear no one would ever be able to take his family’s place in his heart.
He would spend the night in the barn to keep himself from doing anything that would tie Lucy to him. Though she wished she could believe ’twas sheer piety that kept him from her, she knew better. When the intensity of the moment had passed, he’d regretted his actions. And in the morning, Lucy had no doubt that Alex would throw his saddle packs upon his horse’s back, and take his leave. He might even bid her an awkward farewell.
Lucy could not fault him for having done what was right. Her virginity was not something to be taken lightly, yet she had not given it a moment’s thought once he’d kissed her. The feelings were exactly as Elsbeth had described. Lucy had been lost in a fevered haze, wanting and needing naught but his hands and lips upon her.
But Alex had been the one to halt the lovemaking. According to Elsbeth, a man in the throes of passion could not stop. If he was truly enamored of the woman, ’twould be impossible for him to cease until he reached completion. Lucy swallowed hard, dejected by the realization that he must not have wanted her at all.
Presently Lucy dozed, but ’twas not a peaceful sleep. Her new bruises were painful and terrifying dreams assailed her. She ached for Alex and yearned for him to care for her.
When Lucy finally awoke, ’twas near dawn and she was still alone. She did not bother to build up the fire, but sat in the dark, chilly room gazing at the glowing embers and thinking about what to do.
She could not face Alex after what had happened. To have behaved like a harlot—holding him, urging him on, moaning in rapture… A heated blush rose from her chest to her face and she pressed her cool hands against her cheeks to relieve it.
Standing abruptly, she gathered her few belongings in the blanket and tied it into a bundle. There was no reason for her to stay at Holywake. The place was now habitable.
She found the money pouch. There was more than enough for a carpenter’s services, if the abbess was able to find one when she arrived. Lucy kept a few pennies for herself, then set the pouch upon the hearth where Sir Alex would find it. He could either stay at Holywake and give it to the abbess himself, or keep it. He had earned it.
Lucy wiped her eyes and stepped out of the abbey. She could not go into the barn, could not bear to look upon Alex’s countenance once before leaving. Nay. She would make it easy for him and take the decision out of his hands. Taking a steadying breath, she found the path that led to York, and started out upon it.
Chapter Twelve
Alex felt as if he’d drunk too much ale. His head ached and his body felt as tense as an archer’s bow string. Sleep had eluded him for most of the night, and he’d battled fiercely against the urge to return to Lucy and finish what he’d started.
Beyond killing the wolf for Lucy, his actions the night before were shameful. He had succumbed to temptation of the worst sort—he’d given Lucy reason to believe he had tender feelings for her, even when he knew that would never be possible.
She was hardly more than a girl, naive and untutored in the ways of the world. ’Twas highly doubtful she would understand that he’d reacted in the heat of the moment. They’d faced a dangerous enemy together and survived without injury. He’d been exhilarated by the fear, then the kill, and finally by her courage and fortitude.
’Twas no wonder he’d nearly taken possession of her.
He put his hands together and bowed his head in prayer, begging forgiveness for his transgression. By the time he said amen, he had a clear idea of what he had to do.
He
packed what belongings he had in the barn and tied them to Rusa’s saddle. Leading the mare into the dawn, he picked up the ladder and quietly placed it against the roof where he’d done repairs. The scabbard containing the Mandylion was hidden in a protected part of the eaves, where the black knights would never think to search.
Alex retrieved the precious relic, slid it into his belt and mounted the mare. He sat still for a few moments, debating whether he was doing the right thing. Leaving Lucy without a word… He did not think he could stand to look upon her face and know that he would never see it again.
He’d done that once before, with another woman….
Rusa snorted and tossed her mane, anxious to move. Alex gave one last look ’round, making certain that the wolves had gone, though he’d heard their howls fade in the distance sometime during the night. He saw no tracks, so he knew they had not come close to the buildings.
Once he knew the area was safe for Lucy, he kicked in his heels and started off at a trot. With his life unfettered, he would go directly to Eryngton and deliver the Mandylion to Roger’s brother. Once his task was complete, he would ride south. There was no reason to delay his return to France. ’Twas important that he get back to Cluny and take his vows as soon as possible. The events of the previous night were proof of that. He needed the monastery, he needed the fasting and prayers, and the company of the monks to keep him from sin.
A fine mist covered the ground, but Rusa was sure-footed, and traveled the road without mishap. As the morning progressed, a light rain began to fall, and Alex was glad he’d repaired the abbey roof right away.
With his mind well occupied by thoughts of Lucy, he was surprised by the sight of a lone figure in the mist some distance ahead. He slowed Rusa to a walk and placed one hand upon the hilt of his sword while he glanced all ’round.
The mist was thick here, and ’twas difficult to see if there was more than just one rider, if indeed the man was on horseback. Alex approached cautiously, taking note of the woods that lay east of the road. As he weighed the risk of taking his horse into that unknown terrain, he saw something that gave him pause.
The person ahead of him was on foot, and had an unusual gait. The form was not that of a man, but a woman, and she’d covered her head with a dark-blue shawl against the mist.
Lucy!
She’d left him.
Alex stopped in his tracks and jabbed his fingers through his hair, praying silently for the strength to face her. Either she would realize he’d intended to abandon her…or she would think he’d come looking for her.
He groaned.
Turning back to avoid facing her was never an option, so Alex rode closer and dismounted, then caught up to her on foot. Though she kept her face forward and did not stop walking, he saw the muscles of her throat working as if something were caught there. Her face was moist, but so was the air. He did not like to think it was her tears, and he felt ashamed to know he’d driven her from the safety of the abbey.
Had it been the earlier intimacy or his later abandonment that had caused her to run away without speaking to him? Alex was fairly certain of the answer, and something twisted in his chest when she licked her lips and shifted her bundle.
“Might I carry that for you?” His voice sounded odd in the mist.
She shook her head and kept walking.
Lucy would feel much better if he would just mount his horse and ride away. He had to get the Mandylion delivered safely to his Yorkish earl, and it had naught to do with her. She’d resigned herself to losing him, and she could only hold back for a few minutes more before she succumbed to her tears and begged him to take her with him.
She swallowed thickly and resolved to do no such thing. She would manage on her own. Life in The World was much more complicated and difficult than Lucy had ever imagined, but she would somehow find her place in it. Sadness and disappointment were all part of it. She could not dwell upon her foolishness of the night before.
Alex walked slightly behind, leading his horse. ’Twas late for him to worry about her. She might have been eaten by wolves last night for all he knew. Or cared.
Lucy would not allow him to see how much it hurt to know she meant so little to him. Yet he had never lied to her. She’d known his intentions from the first.
But things had changed between them in recent days.
“’Tis a long distance to York,” he said. “Another hour at least, on foot.”
Unsure of the steadiness of her voice, she did not reply. She moved the bundled blanket with all her possessions to her other shoulder and readjusted her shawl, surreptitiously wiping away one foolish tear that had escaped her resolve.
“Lucy, I—”
“Please, Alex,” she said as steadily as possible. “I understand that your commitments lay elsewhere, and I thank you for all your assistance—”
He took her pack from her in spite of her protests, and threw it upon his horse’s back. Suddenly, he had her in his arms and was lifting her up, too. She landed on Rusa’s back and felt him mount behind her.
The warmth of his body flowed into her chilled bones, but Lucy resisted becoming too comfortable in his arms. Since she was weary and knew she would soon need to rest, she did not object to the ride. But when they reached the city gate, Lucy was determined to walk through it on her own, without Sir Alexander Breton’s escort.
Fortunately, he did not speak as they rode, nor did Lucy. They just braved the rain, which worsened as they approached the city. She did not want to lean into him, but found that the only way to avoid shivering was to let him warm her.
Alex slipped one arm around her middle and pulled her closer. Lucy’s eyes slid closed with the sheer pleasure of it, but she quickly jerked herself out of her absurd contentment.
“You risked walking out among the wolves when you left this morn,” Alex finally said.
“I heard their howls fade in the night,” she replied. She’d known exactly when they’d run off, having been awake most of the night. “Is that the wall of the city?” she asked.
“Mmm.” Lucy felt his affirmation as much as she heard it.
“You can let me down now.” She leaned away from him and braced herself against the cold.
“But there is still some distance to go.”
“Sir Alex,” she said without turning to look at him, “please let me down. You have your own journey to follow, as I have mine.”
“Lucy—”
“Nay, do not argue.” She forced herself to speak lightly. As if it did not matter that she had no choice but to leave him. “We must part now. I am firm on this.”
“What reason—”
Turning now to face him, she said, “There is naught between us. ’Tis time to go our separate ways!”
And if she did not leave him now, she did not know if she ever could. She grabbed the edge of his saddle and started to lower herself from the horse, but Alex reached the ground first and helped her down.
“At least let me help you find a room,” he said gruffly. Lucy could see that he was perplexed by her demand to be left alone, perhaps nearly as much as she was.
She pulled her rolled-up blanket off Rusa’s back and held it between them. “Nay,” she whispered.
With her dignity miraculously intact, she turned and walked away, as gracefully as her limp would allow. And prayed that he would not follow.
She was adamant, so Alex complied with her wishes, although he was not pleased to do so. He stayed back and waited until she’d entered through Mickelgate Bar before following her into the city.
Clouds remained overhead, hanging low and threatening, but the rain finally subsided. From a distance at the far end of the lane, Alex watched a bedraggled Lucy walk from shop to shop, looking more and more dejected each time she exited one. ’Twas clear she was having little success finding gainful employment.
He had no doubt that she would find something eventually, and Alex intended to remain in York only long enough to see that she was settled
. Within two days, he could be on his way to Cluny.
’Twas odd that the prospect of returning to the monastery did not hold the same appeal that it had only a month before…only a fortnight before. He refused to believe his change in attitude had anything to do with Lucy. ’Twas more likely due to his proximity to Clyfton and the manor where he’d lived with Isabella. Thoughts of returning home, of seeing Philip and Beatrice…
Alex frowned. When had his mind been freed of constant thoughts of Isabella and life as it once had been? And how had he become so neglectful of his prayers?
’Twas wrong and he would remedy it as soon as he left York and Lucy’s welfare no longer preyed upon his mind. That was all it was…with Lucy, there was always some disaster looming, something from which Alex would have to rescue her. Soon none of that would be his problem, and his life could return to what it was…hours following minutes of quiet meditation. Years of prayer and penance for the benefit of his beloved family.
Alex realized that Lucy had been in the weaver’s shop for some time. He supposed ’twas possible the man had hired her to spin wool or to card it, and there was no reason for him to remain there, watching to see that she was all right. The shop had an upper floor and she might even be given a room.
So all was well. He could leave.
He took Rusa’s reins and started to lead the mare away, but could not keep from stopping before he got to the end of the lane. Turning to look back at the shop, he could see no one inside. Naught was amiss, though. Lucy was doing what she’d intended from the first. She was making a life for herself outside the nunnery, and he said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d found what she was looking for.
Mayhap in time, some young man would offer to wed her. Lucy was far too passionate a woman to remain confined behind convent walls. She should become a wife and bear children—a good number of them—and raise them with all the delight and joy he’d seen in her eyes when she’d held the mummer’s infant.
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